


The Right Time For Kissing

by FancyKraken



Category: Boardwalk Empire
Genre: 1920s, Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27967481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyKraken/pseuds/FancyKraken
Summary: Letting out a hard breath, Meyer forces himself to push past his worry and underlying fear. Charlie’s more than capable of handling himself in dangerous situations.
Relationships: Meyer Lansky/Lucky Luciano
Comments: 7
Kudos: 15





	The Right Time For Kissing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [runnoft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/runnoft/gifts).



> Cait requested #10 from the [Fictional Kiss Prompts:](https://fancykraken.tumblr.com/post/636534423304683520/fictional-kiss-prompts) _staring at the other’s lips, trying not to kiss them, before giving in_
> 
> Takes place during episode 4 of season 3, "Blue Bell Boy." This is my first time posting anything for this pairing/fandom, so I hope I've done them some kind justice and people enjoy this. 
> 
> The biggest thank you and love to Cait for being my partner in everything in this fandom and my number one fic supporter.
> 
> Translations are at the end.

_Try not to sit by the window._

Before Charlie walks out the door _I love you_ almost slips past Meyer’s lips, but a swift bite to the tongue forces them back down to be said later—god willing if there is a later—in darker rooms with skin pressed against skin. Still, the lingering thought of _those could be the last words I’ll ever say to him_ plague Meyer’s mind as he waits with agitation for any news or the return of Charlie himself from the proverbial lion’s den. Masseria has never taken kindly to Charlie involving himself in with the likes of Arnold Rothstein and him.

Ledgers full of cramped and carefully tallied numbers are left scattered and open on the desk untouched. Meyer’s usually focused and steady mind is too distracted to be of any accurate use on any bookkeeping right now. Love is a frustrating distraction. He always thought himself above love; it’s something that happens to other people, not him. It meant he could concentrate on the more important things like running a business and growing a budding empire that he is confident will one day be something to marvel at. This logic is all fine and acceptable to Meyer when his heart wasn’t touched by the love of someone who shares part of your soul.

But then things slowly started changing until recently the headstrong and cocksure friend Meyer grew up with and has undying loyalty to became more than his friend and partner in crime. Charlie, still by some incomprehensible reason to Meyer, claimed Meyer’s love and gave his in return. This admission and reciprocation of love was something Meyer didn’t need a moment to analyze or hesitate over, he jumped into those unknown waters gladly taking part of Charlie as his own. It was and continues to be exhilarating and terrifying.

Unfortunately right now means the latter as Meyer lights a cigarette as if he has a personal vendetta against it. Inhaling, the smoke curls around in his mouth down his throat into his chest like an old comforting friend that lasts about as long as it takes for him to exhale, his concern for Charlie too prominent to be ignored even for a moment. Irritation that he’s letting this situation overcome him edges in alongside all the other swirling negative emotions. Meyer’s skin crawls with the need to do something, anything, just fucking stop acting like a goofy broad and focus on the things that actually require his attention. Charlie will be fine.

_What if he’s not?_

With a scoff that borders on a snarl, Meyer sits at the desk, snatching up the pencil in a grip that almost snaps it in half. What should he have expected falling in love with your best friend and business partner, especially in their line of work? This is the nature of the world he’s in, it’s ruthless, cutthroat, and does not allow for any softness. The sharp edges of the business underworld were designed to draw blood and lots of it if one wasn’t careful. Love is a dangerous thing, a weakness that can be exploited to help bring down kings and empires. Love crept in and took Meyer’s heart. Now he needs to learn how to keep that love from encroaching in on those meticulously constructed walls of business and protection inside him. If those fell then it could very well be his undoing and Charlie’s. So far it has been easier said than done.

Letting out a hard breath, Meyer forces himself to push past his worry and underlying fear. Charlie’s more than capable of handling himself in dangerous situations.

_But this is Masseria._

Meyer clenches his jaw, flinging those thoughts aside to focus on what he can do and what he can do well, which are numbers. The gears in his mind shift beginning to settle into the familiar comfort of data and facts as he looks over the figures already on the page and goes over the ones recently memorized. The soft scratch of the pencil’s lead over paper helps lull him into better focus, blunting the sharp edges of uneasiness he can’t ignore as completely as he’d like.

The front door opens and slams shut hard enough to rattle the glass inside the surrounding window frames. The loud and sudden sound jars Meyer from his work. Dropping the pencil his head snaps up, heart in his throat waiting to see who the hard footsteps that descend the hallway belong to. Benny’s overseeing the poker games right now; the house is always quieter at this time of day, but still, the uneasy thought that it’s him delivering any news that Meyer has yet to hear is a possibility.

Seconds that decidedly feel more like decades pass and Charlie storms into the room, face dark with fury and agitation. Practically ripping off his coat and hat he flings them angrily over a chair by the wall, not bothering to hang them up. Without even glancing at Meyer, Charlie all but rips out a cigarette from the gold case he favours, lighting it and pressing it between his lips. His eyes flutter shut with the first drag trying to reign in the raging storm inside.

Meyer watches this without saying so much as a word. His whole body taught as a bowstring moments before, releases the tension the second Charlie walks through the entryway. The physical reaction of absolute relief upon seeing Charlie— _his_ Charlie—whole and in front of him astonishes Meyer. Never has he ever been this relieved to see anyone in his entire young life, his heart aching with gratitude. Letting out a shaky breath, Meyer studies Charlie as he smokes with intensity, the tightness of his jaw, furrowed brows, hazel eyes dark and turbulent with long soft lashes that brush lightly over his skin as he closes them trying to gather some kind of composure. Meyer sweeps his gaze over every part of him for anything out of place finding nothing of concern, at least nothing physical.

_He’s here and whole. Gottze dank._

A heavy silence engulfs the room giving it an almost oppressive feel. Charlie stands still staring at a random spot on the floor, hand stuffed in his pocket as he smokes. Meyer keeps silent waiting for Charlie to break so he can be the one to take the full brunt of the storm then diffuse it. Meyer’s always been the rock Charlie breaks against, able to calm the turbulent waters inside Charlie when he’s ready to boil over. He already knows it went poorly, a blind man could see that, but he’s also known his friend too long to not be able to read the depths of how poorly this all went. But there’s an energy, another layer of anger, that seems to pulse underneath Charlie that is more than just that of a failed business meeting.

Slowly, Meyer moves around the front of the desk leaning against the dark wood, waiting. Charlie lowers the cigarette and Meyer watches his mouth as the smoke blows past his lips. Lips that Meyer very much wants to kiss right now with relief and gratitude that Charlie is in front of him, but now’s not the appropriate time.

“Thirty percent.”

Meyer blinks, not quite processing the rough words Charlie has bitten out with loathing.

“ _Thirty_ fuckin’ percent,” Charlie repeats with vehemence, looking to Meyer for the first time since arriving. The outrage inside them reflects profoundly to Meyer in waves. Meyer understands and doesn’t. Masseria has fangs and he’s baring them, not only to gain more of a foothold on Rothstein’s territory and a cut of their own budding business ventures but also something as a personal attack against Charlie. Meyer knows why they all do. A dull rage begins to build inside his chest.

They stare at each other without moving. The longing Meyer has to comfort Charlie increases with every passing heartbeat. “You offered him five?” He’s mildly surprised how cool and steady he’s able to make his voice sound despite all that he has felt this afternoon and now.

“Didn’t even get the chance,” Charlie growls, beginning to pace like a caged animal before a fight. Meyer feels for Charlie, caught between the old world and the new. But the old world is slowly dying; the fangs of men like Masseria are slowly rotting away to leave men like Charlie to rule. Meyer plans to be by his side every step of the way.

“Said you had no heart,” Charlie spits out and Meyer startles, not realizing that he hasn’t been registering Charlie’s rough and fiery sentiments as he goes over the situation. It’s not like him to not pay attention like this.

“What?” Meyer snaps his attention up to Charlie meeting him eye to eye. And there it is, that underlying anger that is about more than just business. An insult against him and who and what he is. There’s never been any shortage of insults, hostility, and outright violence against the Jews in this business. Meyer has been on the receiving end of it many times with Charlie bearing witness. 

“No heart,” Charlie laughs darkly, arching an eyebrow at Meyer. “You, no heart.” Charlie’s shoulders sag, the storm inside him dissipating. Walking over to the table across the room he stabs out his cigarette in the ashtray. No doubt picturing Masseria’s face there right now. “If he only knew,” Charlie mutters.

The floor underneath Meyer seems to shift violently and he grips the edge of the desk to keep himself upright. The anger and hurt Charlie is feeling on his behalf of this insult is almost otherworldly for Meyer. Charlie’s always been on his side even when they didn’t agree, but this is different, this isn’t business, this is personal. This really is love, deep and true. An insult to Meyer is an insult to Charlie and what they share between them.

Charlie’s hazel eyes hold fierce defiance that would give someone like Masseria pause if he were here to see it in person. It would show him that the new kings are coming with fangs of their own, new and sharp, thirsty for blood. Kings ready to be crowned and to rule with new hands. Charlie begins to speak, but Meyer doesn’t hear any of it. Instead, he’s fixating on Charlie’s lips, the way they’re shaping the invisible words to Meyer’s ears.

A flash of memory consumes Meyer, of Charlie’s pleading, desperate eyes, mouth open gasping for breath and curls damp with sweat sticking to his brow. 

_“Ah! Fuck, Mey… Please!” Charlie cries out hoarsely as he begins to tip over that wonderful edge, spiralling down into that white-hot pleasure._

The echo of Charlie’s voice from last night rings loudly in Meyer’s ears. A warm electrical current thrums under Meyer’s skin as he pushes himself away from the desk to stand a mere couple of inches away from Charlie stopping him mid-sentence.

“Mey?” Charlie looks a little confused, Meyer’s never been so openly wanting during a situation like this. They take their moments when it’s quiet when it’s safe when they have finished conducting the business that requires attention.

“Shut up, Charlie,” Meyer says quietly with a quirk to his mouth, something reserved only for the two of them. Sliding his hands up along Charlie’s shoulder and neck Meyer brushes his thumb lightly across Charlie’s bottom lip as he cups Charlie’s face between his hands. Rising up on the balls of his feet, Meyer parts his lips pressing them against Charlie’s. His heart twists in his chest almost letting a sob of relief escape his throat with how warm and good and soft they feel against his.

_He’s here. He’s whole. He’s mine._

Charlie sinks into the kiss opening his mouth for Meyer to swipe his tongue inside. Cigarettes mixed with the hint of whiskey predominantly make up what Meyer tastes but there’s that undercurrent of only Charlie that he loves so much.

They press against each other harder, their bodies naturally slotting against the other, finding the right angles to inhabit so they can stay this close as long as possible. Charlie wraps his arms around Meyer’s waist, pulling and holding him as close as he can while Meyer’s hands travel along to the nape of Charlie’s neck. The intensity to run his fingers in Charlie’s hair and grip those curls nearly causes him to moan out loud as the thought consumes him, but not yet. Later they’ll have the time and privacy for that.

Deep and slow they kiss, both taking time to savour the moment. For Charlie to silently convey that he’s okay and to ease Meyer’s heart. Slowly Meyer draws back, dizzy with the whirlwind of emotions he’s being tossed about in but no longer all of them negative. Charlie leans down with one last chaste press of his lips, eyes closed, and then they pull apart, holding each other. Neither one wants to be the first to let go. Meyer studies Charlie’s flushed red lips with pride.

“ _A dank_ ,” Meyerexhales, his heart-feeling steady for the first time in hours.

Charlie arches an eyebrow in question. “What for?”

Meyer hums a little as a non-reply as he shifts his body away from Charlie. Sliding his hand down the side of his neck and shoulder he lets it rest on Charlie’s chest next to his heart. Smiling to himself Meyer studies his hand splayed out against Charlie feeling the steady rise and fall of Charlie’s chest with every breath underneath his palm. Maybe love in their world shouldn’t be used solely as a weakness and something to exploit for the worst. Maybe it could be used for their gain, a weapon for them to hone and use to manipulate others.

Back on steady footing, Meyer reluctantly removes his hand resting against Charlie, but not before saying, “ _ti amo._ ”

“ _Ti amo anch'io,_ ” Charlie replies with a smile causing Meyer’s heart to skip a beat.

The air in the room is decidedly lighter, breathable now. Meyer’s mind begins leaping to different equations and solutions about the situation with Masseria without the worry of letting love getting in the way of what needs to be done.

Together they’ll find a way to light the match that will slowly burn Masseria to the ground.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Feedback and kudos mean so much and is always appreciated.
> 
> Translations (all from Google so if there are any inaccuracies I apologize): 
> 
> _Gottze dank_ (Yiddish) - Thank god  
>  _A dank_ (Yiddish) - Thank you  
>  _Ti amo_ (Italian) - I love you  
>  _Ti amo anch'io_ (Italian) - I love you, too


End file.
